


Does it Get Better?

by Loner234



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Angst, Brienne of Tarth (mentioned) - Freeform, Dark, Depression, F/M, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging, Lord Gendry Waters, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Canon, Sad with a Happy Ending, Sansa Stark is Queen in the North, Sansa Stark/Gendry Waters - Freeform, looking for a beta reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-13
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26980798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loner234/pseuds/Loner234
Summary: Sansa wonders why no one could find their happiness with her. Why wasn’t she enough to make people stay? Was she so damaged that, even as a Queen, there was no one who truly cared about her? She was utterly alone. It’s not my fault! She wonders if she’ll ever believe that.--During different periods of her life, Sansa struggles to deal with the horrors of her childhood.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	1. Who's Fault Was It?

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really excited about this short-fic. Comments and Kudos are appreciated! I hope you enjoy it.

Sansa is on her fourth cup of wine when she realizes that she has had too much. Tyrion told her long ago that drinking was an art. One needed to drink enough to be released from their troubles, but not enough that they couldn’t control their mind. But Sansa, at the age of twenty, had never been drunk before and miscalculated. So now she sat alone in her quarters. Thoughts swirled around her head as she lay there, helpless to stop them. 

Sansa wonders why she went through what she did. Fantasies had filled her young head: Marrying a prince, becoming a queen, siring thousands of children, leaving Winterfell. The naive lamb who had strayed too far from home. There was no way she could have seen the lions waiting for her. _It wasn’t my fault._ Sansa has said the same thing to herself over and over again.

Those nights when she laid in beds familiar yet foreign, eyes shut tightly as she waited for Ramsey to barge through the door any moment, those four words repeated in her head. _It’s not my fault._ While he tore her apart as Theon watched obediently. _It’s not my fault._ When she laid bare with his seed in her, scrambling to find any scrap of dignity left, only to come up empty-handed. _It's not my fault! It’s not my fault! It's not my fault!_ She never believed it. 

She wonders if she could’ve prevented it. Perhaps if she had heeded Arya's suspicions about Joffrey, Lady would still be alive. She would be able to picture her father without seeing his headless body. And Perhaps if she had stayed with Ramsey, Rickon would still be alive. Sansa would be in hell but that wasn’t a foreign place for her. She had been miserable for far longer than she had been happy. Time must be alive because she could feel the scars from when her past had stuck her claws. Sometimes they'd scab or blister, but never would they heal. 

But Rickon wasn’t like her. Rickon was innocent. He could’ve been rescued by Jon, got married, became a lord, and lived a long life.

His death had hit her hard. Possibly harder than Robb and Catelyn’s. Sansa gushed over him as a babe, often imagining that he was her own. He had red hair and blue eyes like she imagined her kids would have. 

She was the first sibling to hold him. When all of their siblings would leave him behind because he couldn’t keep up, Sansa would stay with him: singing songs and reciting the stories Old Nan had told her. When she watched his filthy, bony body shot down as he ran for his life, all she could picture was how fragile he felt in her arms long ago. A defenseless thing whose whole existence rested upon her shoulders. An existence that was now over. _It’s not my fault._

She wonders why Robb married Talisa. She'd heard that the girl was smart and kind and brave. In different circumstances, they might've gotten along. But right now Sansa can’t help hating both her and Robb. Robb was the lord of Winterfell. The son of Eddard Stark. More importantly, he was her brother.

Rescuing his sisters should've been his priority, second only to avenging their father. If all he had to do was marry for an alliance, he should’ve done so without hesitance. Instead, Sansa was the one who had to marry for an alliance. She was forced to be a pawn because he wanted a happy ending. 

Could it be because Sansa had never been in love that she couldn’t understand? She wished she could ask him. Was the love for a woman he barely knew strong for the love for his family? Had he known what she was enduring while he was busy stealing kisses and making heirs? How she was stripped and beaten? That she had only the kindness of the Imp and The Hound for protection? 

She wonders if Jon would’ve saved her. He loved her less than their other siblings and Daenarys, probably even less than his vows. But did he love her enough to come to her rescue? Sometimes she imagines what would've happened if Brienne and Theon hadn't came to her aid. All scenarios leave her feeling like she's sinking. 

Jon promised that she would never be harmed again, but he wasn’t very enthusiastic to help her gain revenge. _If it was Arya who had been defiled, Jon would’ve been eager to get involved._ She never did ask him why he never came for her. She thinks she already knows the answer in the back of her mind: he didn’t love her enough. The thought saddens her, but she can’t blame him. Sansa doesn’t love herself that much either. 

She wonders why Arya never asked what happened to her. They'd never been close. When younger, their personalities clashed. Sansa thought her to be mannish and unladylike. Arya thought her to be too delicate and uptight. Still, Sansa had loved her sister. Not a day went by that she didn’t wonder what happened to her and if she was alright. When the two reunited, Arya seemed so relieved. Sansa felt her heart warm for the first time in a long time. That warmth dimmed when she saw Arya reunite with Jon. She’d given him a big smile and hug. Sansa knew that the two of them had been closer with each other than with her, but it still hurt. 

And then Jon left Sansa in charge. It felt good to be the one making rules and have people listen to her. She became a player in the game, rather than a pawn. Until Arya accused her of trying to discredit Jon and put herself in place to lead. 

It was a ridiculous accusation. Sansa wanted to be Queen, but she not enough to betray her brother. Her sister didn’t believe that though. Arya brought up her actions at King’s Landing. As if Sansa had done it out of malice or enjoyment. As if Sansa hadn't only been trying to stay alive, the same as her. Arya has always had a way of making her reasons seem stupid.

When Sansa finds her bags of faces, Arya looks at her with a numb expression. It reminds her of how Lord Bolton had looked when introducing her to Ramsey like he knew this was going to be her death. She thinks that this is it. She'd survived Cersei and Joffrey, Littlefinger, and Ramsey, only to die at the hand of her sister. To her amazement, her heart was still beating moments later. Tears fall as her feet carry her from the room, whether from anger or fear she doesn't know. She contemplates sending Arya away. This was supposed to be a safe place. She wasn’t supposed to feel in danger here. Her sister had no right to corrupt her haven.

By the time she reaches the end of the hall, she has resolved her inner turmoil. Sansa won't be doing anything to Arya. No matter what happens, she’s still her sister. And Sansa isn’t willing to lose any more people. 

The other thing that Sansa wonders about lingers deep in her mind, hidden behind so many layers that she wouldn’t consider it if she was in a normal state. _Why does everyone leave me?_ After the war, Arya leaves to explore the world. Odd that she wouldn't want to stay home after being gone for so long. Bran goes to King’s Landing to rule. The person inside his body is not the brother she knew. Still, it saddens her to see him go. Sandor dies in battle, leaving her wondering if she had imagined the moments they had shared the night before. Brienne joins Bran’s council in King’s Landing. Theon dies. Jon has to go North of the wall. And no matter how disappointed he tries to look, Sansa knows he is glad.

Sansa wonders why no one could find their happiness with her. Why wasn’t she enough to make people stay? She imagined drinking one cup too many and falling asleep forever. It’d probably take weeks for her family to find out, and even shorter for them to get over their grief. She pictures her flesh rotting, maggots and flies swarming her. It was poetic in a sense, she would finally look the same on the outside as she did on the inside.

Was she so damaged that, even as a Queen, there was no one who truly cared about her? She was utterly alone. _It’s not my fault!_ She wonders if she’ll ever believe that. 


	2. Heart of Dirt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 5 years later...

Sansa rarely had nightmares as a child. Most of the time she slept, she imagined running through the beautiful meadows of Highgarden, dancing the night away after watching a tournament, and sometimes Theon bringing her flowers and taking her to view his home that he spoke so much about. When young she had thought him appealing. That was until he realized that “ward” really meant “prisoner”, and became mean. She understood. After her parents died and Joffrey became engaged to Margaery, some people viewed her as a “ward” of the Lannister’s. 

On the rare occasions that she did have a nightmare, she would usually be woken up by family: Her mom’s reassuring arms hugging her as she whispered that it was just a dream, her dad kissing her forehead, Robb making sure she was okay before relentlessly teasing her, and sometimes Jon’s unsure voice attempting to comfort her as if he didn’t know if he was allowed to.

When she awoke, breaths coming out in scared pants, there were no parents or siblings. 

Sansa’s eyes snapped open, still trapped in memories. She took deep breaths and looked around, forcing herself to remember where she was. She was in her bed in Winterfell. Guards stood posted outside her bed. She was safe and sound. 

_In, out_. Sansa repeated it in her head as she forced her breathing to slow, hoping her heart rate would follow its lead. After a few minutes, it did. A busy day of attending royals duties awaited her. Once she got started, she was usually working until sunset. Moments to relax like this were sparse. She would take advantage of it. 

Freckled arms pulled at the cover, exposing herself to the frigid air. She wraps herself in the cloak that lays discarded at the bottom of the bed and slides it over hare skin. Her legs carry her to the window table. A new addition. 

The sun peeked through the trees, just barely lighting up the sky. Her eyes focused on the ground beneath it, covered in snow. Every year it stood shorter and shorter. When she first came to Winterfell it had reached her knee, evidence of the prolonged winter. Now it reached just above her ankle. The days were now warmer and Sansa had no doubt that the snow would be completely gone in the coming seasons, allowing the soft soil to become visible for the first time since she was little. 

Things had been going well in The North. The only worry was the Iron Islands. Yara was not fond of the Starks. Sansa could understand why. Jon had killed the Dragon Queen and then Bran had taken the position of King. Sansa became the Queen of The North. To outsiders, it would seem like the Starks had planned to seize control of all of Westeros. And the thing that Yara resented them for the most: Theon's death. He had been the singular guard for Bran against an army of the dead. It was a suicide mission. Sansa had explained that it was Theon volunteered, but she knows more than anyone that logic doesn't soothe the sting of grief. 

The Iron Islands hadn’t declared war or made any hostile acts towards them yet, but it was inevitable. They lost over half of their resources in the War so Sansa was almost entirely sure that it wouldn’t be for a long while. Stull, The North needed to be prepared for all possibilities. 

This all made for a very stressed Queen. The pressures of leading were hard with no one to help her. It took some getting used to, being queen. She was very lonely at first. The halls felt hollow, the people who once adorned it all being dead or thousands of miles away. Brienne, her only real friend after Theon, was busy juggling being a mother and an advisor. 

She had visited Winterfell on occasion, usually on the business of the King. Sometimes Brienne even brought her son, Johannes. And despite being a Storm, the boy had suspiciously golden locs and blue-green eyes. Sansa was chatting with Brienne on the balcony when she first saw him. He ran around the courtyard beneath them, hands wielding a too-big wooden sword with surprising grace for someone his age. A glance of unspoken understanding was shared, and that was all there was to it. 

Sansa did however find an ally, in the most unexpected person surprisingly: Gendry Baratheon. The Starks and Barateons had been close for decades. They decided to continue the alliance. Gendry was as unfamliar with politicking as she was with being in charge of others. They’d meet to discuss policies and relations. Both went about ruling in vastly different ways, which came in handy when one of their approaches didn't fit a situation. They were still new to leading and faced a lot of uncharted pressures. 

With time the two allies became friends, and then the two friends became lovers. Gendry was mad at Arya for leaving. Sansa supposes she was too. She wanted Arya to feel the same betrayal that she felt when Arya had left. Falling in love was just an added benefit. 

Their encounters happened every once in a while to relieve some tension with someone who understood. It was casual until it wasn't. No longer was it just sex. This was fun, playful, intimate. 

He’d run his hands over her bare stomach, smiling as she swatted his hands (though she'd giggle after). She began to find herself missing his blunt responses and genuinely caring nature whenever he went back to Storms End. She likes to think he missed her too because after their nights of passion she would find him still there. She would awake tucked into his chest tightly. After she remembered that she hadn’t passed out from Ramsey’s torture or fallen prey to Lord Baelish’s advances, she would relax. 

They usually talked when he woke up. She r when recalls a particular intimate morning where he asked about his father in a small voice. Sansa had plenty to tell: the putrid smell of alcohol that stung the air whenever he was there, how apparent his resentment for his wife was, the lack of interactions between him and what he believed to be his children. But she doesn't think he'd like to hear that. Instead, she regurgitates the stories her father had told her: their time under Lord Arryn, his love for Lyanna, his many feats in battle. The words feel like cotton as they come out her mouth, but when she looks at his face hanging on to every word coming from her mouth in child-like wonder, she finds herself wanting to come up with more good things to tell him. 

One day he shocked them both by asking for her hand in marriage. She went silent and he launched into a speech " _I can still visit every month. And you can visit me sometimes too. Things don't have to change. We can still do what we’re doing now, but we’ll just be married. There’d be no need for secrecy. No chance for bastards…”_. 

She interrupted him with a kiss, saying that she’d love to marry him. And she meant it. She liked what they had and wouldn't mind doing it for the rest of her life. That may not have been the best reason to get married, but after the men in her life, she didn’t think she could have what she did. The thought of having sex, or even being close with a man had sent her into a panic. But not with Gendry. She not only was comfortable with him, but she enjoyed being with him. Not just sexually, but just taking and spending time with him. 

They announced it the next week to the surprise of everyone, the new couple overjoyed at the upcoming union. She knew Bran wouldn’t care, and Arya was still somewhere at sea. The only person she worried about was Jon. 

They had been getting along better. She would even go as far as to say he was the sibling she was closest to. He visited frequently, smiling broadly and wrapping her into a big hug every time the two greeted. They would talk about his life North of the Wall (recently he had started to mention a woman named Val more), Arya and Bran, and everything else. 

Sansa had reluctantly sent word to him in a letter about her betrothal to Gendry. She didn’t want this to risk the bond that they had formed. So she felt crushed when on his next visit, he simply nodded to her and glared at Gendry. No smiles or warmth. They barely spoke over the next couple of days, but she could feel his stare on her and Gendry whenever he was around. 

On the day before he departed, Jon had stormed into her office while she was looking over some papers, closing the door behind him, and taking a seat. Sansa had been awaiting the moment. Jon had always been protective of Arya and Sansa was dating the man she had loved. Naturally, he would have some things to say about that. She fought the urge to tense at his intense gaze, _This is Jon, your brother. He wouldn’t harm you. And You’re a Queen. There are Guards ready to intervene at any sound of distress._

“How is he to you?” Jon asked. That wasn’t what she had been expecting. 

“Good” came her hesitant voice. “Great” she announced louder as his eyebrows raised in doubt. He stared at her longer. 

“Good. If that ever changes” he leaned forward, “send for me”. She gave a small nod and he stood up, leaving the room. 

When she sent him off the next day he gave her a big smile and squeezed her in a tight hug. She asked if he would be at the wedding, and he said of course because he had to give her away. 

Sometimes Sansa’s surprised at how far she’s come, _And yet you’re still not close to where you were before._ Sansa stopped herself, _It wasn’t easy to get here. You worked hard for this. And you’ll there one day._

She still can’t bring herself to pray, but the tombs act as a wonderful replacement. She now knows why her dad had enjoyed going down there. It now held statues of her father and Robb. She visits them frequently. Sometimes she tells them about her day. Sometimes she yells and cries at them, asking all the questions she never got the chance to. Sometimes she talks to them about the stresses of leading. Sometimes she just stares at their faces. 

It’s healing in a way. They had been ripped from her suddenly and she was never able to process it. The only thing she’d known was that was a hole in her heart that she couldn’t fill. Here, she could be close to them again. 

She felt a little lighter than before. She no longer had to remind herself that it was okay to laugh when she heard a joke. No matter the weather, She felt uncomfortable when wearing less than four layers, but she was able to do it. And most of all, she felt in control again. 

A deep voice was heard from behind her. 

“Sansa”. Gendry stared at her through sleep-filled eyes. “Come back to bed, it’s cold” he whined, pulling the cover back. Sansa looked back to the window before rising from the table and stalking towards the bed. Gendry wrapped her in his arms, pulling the cover over her before going back to sleep. Sansa placed a light kiss to his face. 

As she snuggled deeper into his chest she recalled the ground outside. She couldn’t wait for the snow to melt all the way. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Sansa is my favorite GOT character and I feel like she is the most complex person at the ending of the show. I wish that her trauma was explored more instead of just 'making her stronger'. Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
